


Fright Zone Laser Tag

by dandeliononfire



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, High School AU, Humor, Laser Tag, Slight hints of being a Crack Fic, catradora, don't hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandeliononfire/pseuds/dandeliononfire
Summary: SUMMARY:When Adora can’t get her date to play a round of laser tag with her, it drives her into The Fright Zone to face off against none other than her estranged friend Catra. But there can be only one... at the top of the scoreboard, that is. Or, maybe rankings aren't as dangerous of an issue as the growing ire of Adora's date? High school AU that includes a little angst, a little drama, a little ‘cat’ fighting, and a little fun.(My apologies for Glimmer being really kind of a bitch OOC. It's how the story went originally and I couldn't really change that without rewriting the entire plot. I do like Glimmer in rl, I promise.)
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Fright Zone Laser Tag

It was a pretty typical Thursday night at work. I was perched on my stool at the Mystacor kiosk in the mall, spending more time on my phone roasting people on Twitter than having customers to sell one to. As kiosks went, it felt more like a medieval stock than a point of sale in the middle of a tiled atrium, exposed as it left me to the better-than-you suburban preppy teens with money in their pockets and sticks up their asses. And, with the big megaplex entrance in front of me, a popular chain restaurant to the far side, and an arcade/laser tag center called The Fright Zone right next to me, it was pretty much the most frequented date destination of my high school classmates.

Not that I cared, except at least it meant I usually knew who was macking on whom, or breaking up, before everyone else. And _that_ gave little old me _plenty_ of fodder for blackmail or teasing during the school week, and, well, not to brag, but I also know how to use it.

Of course, sometimes it backfired and I’d end up having to scruff it out with one of the Mean Girls. Those princesses might look like they’d be afraid to break a nail, but to give credit where it’s due, most of them fight tough, though I hold my own easily enough. Tragically, of late I’d been forced to keep things low key however: A month ago I’d gotten into it with ‘oh-look-at-my-tiara’ Glimmer’s best friend Mermista and, well, we’d both walked away with bruises (okay, so that bitch could really scrap, and on the downlow she’d earned my respect), but she was rich, I wasn’t, and so I’d been the only one to walk away with detention and a warning for fighting. (My second warning for fighting this year.)

It’d always been pretty clear Principal Weaver was going to have a three-strikes-you’re-out rule when it came to me.

It was better to keep my mouth shut, sometimes. I could do it. Occasionally. When forced. And thankfully there hadn’t been too much juicy stuff in the last couple of weeks to tempt my mischievous side.

But when one couple walked out of the megaplex at a time which meant they’d caught the matinee of _50 Shades of Scorfuma_ (seriously, what kind of whack-a-do movie involves bondage with tying people up with vines?) not only did I care, I was sick. And furious.

That the bitch was Glimmer wasn’t a shocker; she went out a lot. She went through boyfriends and girlfriends so fast she probably had a frequent customer punch card for the megaplex.

But that the girl was Adora, generally adored and all-around nice girl- not to mention championship wrestler- was. Not because it was the least bit of a surprise Glimmer wanted to add her to the notches on her bra strap, but because, well, let’s just say I had very complicated emotions when it came to her. And, really, with _Glimmer_?

As soon as I realized I was gawking, I tilted my head down over my phone. I didn’t want to be seen. And more than that, I actually didn’t want to know. It was better not to think about Adora at all.

Okay, so maybe I had a really complicated history with her as well as ‘emotions.’

Because while I had resigned myself to picking my way through to graduation as carefully and quietly as a solider trying to make it out from behind enemy lines, when the blue-eyed, blond-waves of the new-to-town girl had transferred in two years ago, I’d been powerless to avoid trying to be in her bubble. It had started well, too. She’d been too new to realize my reputation as the badass, rebel troublemaker (either that or maybe she’d just not cared, because Adora was stupidly nice like that), and had actually, happily been friends with me.

For all of that sophomore year.

And into this year. Until last October I’d used her to avoid getting caught with catnip by hiding it in her locker on a day I’d had the cat-sense that told me Principal Weaver might do one of her ‘random’ locker searches. Could-do-no-wrong Adora’s locker would never get searched, so I’d made my play.

Weaver had come up empty handed. But, Adora had found the stash in her locker before I could remove it. _That_ conversation had not gone well. Or the one after that.

Or the screaming match in the cafeteria later that week in which, over her tray of tuna salad of all things, she’d actually started crying because apparently 1) she thought I was throwing away my life (I am) and 2) I had violated her trust (I had).

Let’s just say that as somecat that has anger issues in general and rejection/abandonment issues in specific, that did _reeeeeealy_ not go well.

And by that, I mean I’d gotten defensive and said a lot of awful, untrue things about how she was just as stuck up and prissy and coddled as the rest of them, and I didn’t need losers like her crowding up my life.

So, yeah. We hadn’t talked since. It had left me with pretty much a permanent case of guilt-nausea just passing her in the hallways or sitting in the same classes with her. And the way she avoided looking at me… Oooof. I mean, if she could at least be angry with me, I could deal. But those stupid big blue eyes hers might as well have been anime-heartbreak on steroids so that was pretty much a kick to the tits.

It was pretty dumb that I could still remember everything. Right down to the first time we’d touched, when a book had slipped from my backpack and she’d picked it up and put her hand on my shoulder as she’d slid it back in. Electricity had shot up my skin and I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of invisible tattoo there the size and shape of her freakishly large handprint.

Whatever.

Love was for losers anyway. No one ever stayed, anyway. Not for me. No one had ever really given a shit about the kid who’d only been enrolled in the smarmy Etheria Elementary, Salineas Middle School, and Bright Moon High because the aunt she lived with (Catra was the runt and her parents had decided they would be plenty busy raising the four stouter kittens), happened to be the live-on-property maid for some rich prick, which meant Catra’s address stuck her inside the school district’s snobby boundary.

Love was for losers. Yeah.

Yeah.

I’d kept telling myself that for the last six months. 

Love could go choke.

At least there was no chance that Adora’s pain would be as bad or as lasting as mine. It was impossible for someone as perfect as her (if you repeat that, I will deny it. and also key your car with my claws) to fall for a loser like me, and so whatever pain she had was just lost friendship, and not the sort of deep chest-aching bullshit I’d have to deal with.

Even though I shouldn’t have, I held my phone in front of me so I could watch Adora and Glimmer without appearing to. They stopped in the middle of the atrium. To my joy, at the moment Glimmer tried to hook her hand with Adora’s, she reached up and pretended to adjust her hair tie. (Also, really, what _was_ it with Adora and that hair poof? Did she keep something hidden in there? Plans to the Death Star or something? Help us Obi Wan, you’re the Princess Rebellion’s only Beard.)

Adora pointed to The Fright Zone, but Glimmer just shook her head and started talking about something with that prissy look on her face. She was probably going on about something lame, the color of Beyoncé’s latest dress or some shit like that, because Adora, Henley-wearing, jeans and combat-boot rocking, jock part-himbo Adora’s expression glazed over almost immediately.

I had to swallow my snicker; I didn’t want to interrupt and miss my chance to see Glim-glim go down in flames.

Because boy, baby, was she about to. I’d been friends long enough with Adora to read her body language pretty well. Her expression was strained, lips tight, which meant she was a mix of awkward but also annoyed. While Glimbo was still yakking, Adora kept casting longing glances over at The Fright Zone.

Adora appeared to ask again, but Sparkles just shook her head, and when the incessant chattering didn’t let up, and after what seemed like a looooong moment of considering, (party!) Adora actually- **I WAS SEEING THIS WITH MY OWN TWO HETROCHROMATIC** _and very sexy I might add_ **EYES** \- _snubbed_ her royal highness by turning and abruptly walking away in the direction of the lasertag place. (Adora’s ovaries were growing into quite the pair; warmth flooded my toebeans.)

The path brought her right by my kiosk though.

I dove off the stool and started rummaging around in a cabinet. And hey, it wasn’t that I was afraid, okay? I’d just remembered suddenly that the empty boxes from the display phones needed to be reorganized.

“Adora, I said _no_ ,” I heard Glimmer call after her in that shrill of her. This I had to see. I risked peeking up over the counter. Pink-purple hair had her arms crossed and stubbornly wasn’t following. “I told you I am _not_ going to play laser-tag!”

Adora stopped, jaw tight and nostrils widening as she forced out an irritated breath. I could see her clench and unclench her hands several times in a row. I knew that meant she was _really_ irritated and trying hard to keep control rather than do something as mere-mortalish as talk back, or, I don’t know, stand up for herself.

“You said,” Adora’s voice was actually pretty firm and held an edge (like, hot), “that if I let you pick the movie, we could do something _I_ actually wanted to do after.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my movie choice,” Glimmer huffed, then caught up to her. “Come on, Adora, let’s go do something _really_ fun.”

“Like _what_?” Adora said with crap-ton more patience than I would’ve had, but then again, she was, after all, still Adora, so she kind of couldn’t help it.

Glitter’s eyes literally sparkled, I kid you not, and she took on this vomit-worthy flirtatious tone, “Weeeeeell, we coooooooould...”

If she suggested going out to the Crimson Waste pullout to make out, I was gonna hurl.

“…go shop for shoes!”

It was the shear brightful, sincere hopefulness in her entire… _being_ …. which slaughtered me; I snorted so hard I literally choked on my own spit and started coughing.

Hacked, really.

Almost as bad as when I get a very nasty fur ball.

Both their heads turned to me. Glimmer immediately stared daggers.

Adora… Well, after her eyes recovered from having gone wide with surprise at realizing it was me, just looked really, really sad.

_Addendum to my will:_

_Please give my band posters to Scorpia; my motorcycle to Lonnie, because I know she will use it as recklessly as my baby deserves; and my leather jacket to Kyle, in the sincere hope he one day grows into something more badass than a wet noodle._

In all seriousness, Adora was murdering me too, just with the amount of pain surfacing in those baby blues. My chest felt like it was being crushed and _dammit_ I was supposed to be able to act aloof and not feel shit like I was burning up inside like this anymore.

I folded my ears back, and tried to will my regret, all the I’m-sorries I’d said to her and a dozen more, into how I was looking at her.

But all she did was shake her head (I am a disappointment after all, a throw-away, what else could I expect?) before turning away and grumbling, “Come on, Glimmer, we’re playing. I haven’t been able to come here for weeks, and it’s one of my favorite things to do.”

My ears perked up as they walked away. I worked at the kiosk three afternoons a week, plus all day on Saturdays- Had been since Christmas- and I hadn’t noticed her come by a single time. And I was a regular at The Fright Zone myself, because I usually stuck around and played Friday and Saturday nights after work when the big crowds piled out of the Megaplex from the new premiere showings. Made for full teams and more people to snipe.

Maybe with her schedule, she came by earlier in the week?

Glimmer reluctantly followed her to the counter just inside the door. It was close enough to me I could still hear them.

“See,” Adora said, managing to perk up a little, maybe even get a tiny bit excited, as she pointed to the leader board pinned to the wall, “that’s me.”

I leaned partially out of the kiosk to see better.

She was pointing to twentieth place.

She was on the board? (I mean, good for her, but, like, twentieth, Adora? Good thing you’re a wrestler and not a biathlete because _that_ would be embarrassing. But still, it’s cute she tries.)

I had to lean even further out to make out the name.

She Ra. (Wtf is a she ra? Some king of weird goat cry? Sh _eeeee_ R _aaaaaaa_!)

I smiled suddenly, unexpectedly happy. I’d made fun of the handle before as incredibly corny, but the idea of Adora being sweet and corny only made me like her more. Oh, but then, riiiiight, she hated me and so, yeah, not so happy.

The guy on shift (an idiot named Seahawk who I often spent slow afternoons shooting the breeze with despite the fact he was more annoying than mange and had an unpardonable tendency to break boisterously into song) wandered out of the arcade side and stepped behind the counter, hands jingling the quarters in his change apron. For some reason he’d attached to me as a sort of niece to his gregarious black-sheep-of-the-family-uncle persona. He looked from Adora to Glimmer and back again before raising his eyebrows and twirling his mustache. (I forgot to mention he twirls his mustache. It’s weird, bro, creepy. Cut it the f out.) Then his eyes shifted and caught me watching them, and he gave a quick nod Adora’s way as if to say to me, _get-a-load-of-her,_ before pulling two vests down from the storage shelf for them.

Adora was almost vibrating with excitement as she picked the vests up. She held one of them out for Glimmer who took it, but then rubbed her fingers together like it was dirty and pulled a face. She tossed it back onto the counter like it carried an infection disease.

“Forget it. I’m not about to put that thing over _this_ blouse.” She planted her fists on her hips and glared at Seahawk. “Don’t you ever clean them?” And to Adora, she said impatiently, “If I wasn’t being clear, I want to do something _else_.”

“I want to do _this_ ,” Adora said, voice strained. But Adora, always Ms. Nice Girl, didn’t lose her temper. Instead, she sighed and relaxed her expression, “Look, how about this instead as a compromise: You go over to the restaurant and order an appetizer, and I’ll play a round here and then drive you home.”

“Sorry kid,” Seahwk interrupted, using that weird jovial booming voice thing he liked to do. He pointed to the two television displays overhead which listed the players for each of the two teams. Both monitors were blank. “If your friend here isn’t going to play, there’s no opponent for you! It wouldn’t be a competition if there weren’t two sides, would there? Why, there’d be no one to shoot!” He formed his mouth into something he probably thought was a charming grin. “Thursgays are slow nights, and we don’t usually get anyone until the non-chick flick movies start letting out in another twenty minutes.”

“See,” Glimmer tugged on Adora’s arm. “Let’s go. It’s stupid anyway. And there’s this gorgeous pair of thigh-high boots I’ve been eyeing. Oh! And we can go to Hot Topic!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Look,” Glimmer continued, “let’s go shopping for a while until people show up and then if we still have energy we can come back and see if there’s someone for you to play one round with.”

“No, forget it, let’s just go,” Adora said, all the wind clearly out of her sails. “I’ll just take you home now.”

“Actually,” said Seahawk, putting his boot on the counter and leaning forward on his knee dramatically, “come to think of it, I _do_ know where you can find someone right now! May I present to you,” Seahawk’s eyes flitted up to mine and with an entirely too loud shout (Dude, you’re not a magician, stop acting like everything you do is a magic trick that requires a grand reveal), he pointed dramatically at me and shouted, “ **a worthy opponent!** ”

Both of their heads snapped my way.

Then, in a suddenly normal (for him) sing-song voice he added matter-of-factly, “And, if I’m not mistaken, her kiosk hours ended about five minutes ago.”

Glimmer flashed me a look like Deathtm before grabbing the vest from the counter. “You know, you’re right. It’s not fair we only do what I want. Let’s play a round and get it over with.”

Adora, however, was looking only at me, with that same hyperfocus I’d seen her whip out at wrestling matches, in PE, and whenever we’d play video games. Competition was Adora’s oxygen.

It made my stomach flip. (Because, God she was hot and amazing and wonderful and a good friend and I missed her and also she really hated it that I always crushed her on Mario Kart and I’m a bastard so I love beating her any chance I can get so I can gloat.)

“Adora,” Sparkles snapped, yanking on Adora’s sleeve.

That got her attention, unfortunately, broke the focus.

She shook her head like she was clearing it from a dream, then stared down at the floor for a moment. She sighed. “Fine,” she said to Glimmer, “Let’s go to Hot Topic and see what’s there. Maybe we can come back if there’s more people afterwards.”

**“No! Adora, don’t go! Please,” I pleaded.**

No, just kidding. We all know I’m way too emotionally blocked and chickenshit for that sort of vulnerability, so instead I just stood there with my ears deflating along with my heart, hoping she’d meet my eyes again. But she didn’t, and they walked off.

I slinked over to the counter.

Seahawk looked concerned. Apparently he wasn’t totally oblivious.

“Hey, what was that about? You two know each other?”

“Only in another life.”

Struggling with feelings of rejection I knew I had no business having, I went back and took my frustration out on the cabinets and drawers as I spent the next ten minutes closing down the kiosk.

“Hey, Catra?”

My claws came out and I jumped at the startle. Adora was standing in front of the kiosk, scratching at the back of her neck and looking uncomfortable.

“Adora,” I acknowledged, but literally couldn’t think of Wordstm after.

Her eyes darted around (this was awkward af) and she grabbed her own arms to make kind of an emotional barrier. But at least she was still there, talking to me. “Are you really any good?”

My higher functions were still on reboot, so I nodded dumbly.

“Would you, uh, be willing to play a round with me?” She added quickly, “I’ll pay.”

I swallowed.

I really wanted to say yes.

But also, I had hurt her. Badly.

Playing around with catnip was no small thing. Adora had been terrified what it would do to me. Distract me from my homework. Keep me unmotivated to the point I wouldn’t care about getting into college. Worried that all I’d end up doing was spend endless hours rolling in the cuttings like some animal while my life passed by. I’d been living too close to the edge we both knew it and I’d used Adora to protect me from the consequences my habit, and…

And she deserved better than a bad kitty like me.

I was just about to say no, but Seahawk appeared, hands rooting around loudly in his change apron.

“Sure she will,” he answered for me. “Come on, you two.”

Adora looked at me, to see my response. She actually wanted me to say yes. So, I swallowed my shame and pride and gave a little nod. Adora actually smiled (smiled!) then tipped her head back towards The Fright Zone to tell me to get a move on.

I finished closing, and then followed my paws over.

Adora tried to pay for both of us, but Seahawk refused, “Catra’s ticket’s on the house.” He looked at me and winked, “because I suggested it.”

Seahawk, you’re such a liar.

“Cool, thanks,” Adora said. I shook my head at her naivety.

Seahawk just pushed a vest my way and I took it with a scowl.

Seahawk waved her off to the Blue Team prep room, and I retreated to my own team’s prep room, where I 1) strapped on my vest, 2) walked straight past the laser-rifles lined up on the general-use rifle rack and ( **you guessed it, bitches** ) 3) retrieved my own from a private storage locker. (Okay, so it wasn’t really mine, but I’d earned the privilege of using the low-use unit, the one the general public wasn’t allowed to manhandle and bang around to the point of losing sensitivity and responsiveness. Plus, it had the bonus feature that shots to _it_ didn’t count against me as a kill shot. Adora couldn’t get lucky; she’d have to be precise and hit me on the vest.)

“She Baaaa” was about to get schooled.

All it took was the feel of the rifle’s stock butted snugly into my shoulder to evaporate whatever stupid emotions over a stupid girl I was desperately trying not to stupidly have. When the klaxon signaled the start of the match, I stepped into the fog and pulsing electronic music and strobing lights of The Fright Zone.

One-hundred-percent feral.

One-hundred-percent lethal.

I shot She-Duh the first time within fifteen seconds by rushing through the maze of obstacles to where the opposing team’s entrance was and ambushing her. She groaned while her vest and laser rifle lit up like a Christmas tree, blinking for the mandatory seven second neutralization period as I slipped back into the fog.

I shot her the second time two minutes later, anticipating her move to find the safety of the central high-ground formation, an elevated feature I’d personally labeled Melog. (Because, like dude, it was shaped like a log and it was _mine_.)

She-Bra gave a frustrated grunt and frowned at me, vest and weapon once again blinking all glowly like in the machine-made fog.

Another three minutes and I was perched up on a rectangular obstacle about eight feet high, waiting for her to prowl through.

“You’re dead, Adora,” I growled before taking the shot. “Also, you suck at Mario Cart!”

Her gun dropped and she looked frustrated, but amused. I smirked, and, fuck it, I let a cackle rip.

This time, however, because of where I was, there was no simple way to run off. As I climbed down the little tower, Adora’s warm hands unexpectedly settled on my sides to make sure I made the drop safely.

Butterflies. There were butterflies. Like from the times she’d ask me to help her practice wrestling moves.

I hated stomach butterflies.

Digest all butterflies.

“That was cheating,” she chided, voice raised to be heard above the music. She was grinning. “You’re not allowed to climb the obstacles!”

“Says who,” I shouted back. “If you can get up on an obstacle, you can use it. Legal rules!”

“But you can only scale that because of your _claws_ , Catra!” She was chiding me, but also, she was still grinning. Her face had that sort of doey wide-eyed look that always made me feel a little woozy.

Having broken the silence of the competition, for some reason neither of moved, standing awkwardly with our rifles hanging at our sides.

“You really are good at this,” she said, leaning in so she wouldn’t have to all-out shout. (Too close to my ear, Adora. Too close! **DIGEST ALL THE BUTTERFLIES!** )

I stared down, rolling an incisor over my bottom lip. I couldn’t think of anything else to say except for, “Hey, Adora.”

“Catra…” The way she said my name sounded serious. And man, did she still have to be so close to me? I looked up. Her eyes, dark in the dim chaos that was The Fright Zone, drilled into mine like they had when Seahawk had first pointed me out in the kiosk.

My heart started racing as I waited for her to complete what she wanted to say to me.

But whatever it was went unsaid.

Because when she said my name for a second time, it came out as a shouted warning.

“CATRA!”

Too late.

My vest was vibrating and dancing with light.

“Hey, Blondie! You’re not supposed to warn her!” I felt the floor shake slightly as my assassin jogged up to us. I knew without turning around, from the angry little voice, it was an angry little yeti. “I’m on _your_ team, stupid!”

To the other girl, she shouted, “Sorry.”

To me she mouthed, “Are you okay?”

I’m not sure why her concern offended me, but it did.

“I’m fine, Adora,” I huffed.

I looked back at Frosta, A.K.A. “The Froster” on the leader board, a Freshman kid with a talent for laser tag and a regular on Friday and Saturday nights. We could be excellent teammates, when necessary, but above all, we were competitors. I’d given her a foolish handicap when I’d assumed no one else would walk in and join Adora and me mid-round.

Frosta looked at me like I had a horn growing out of my head when I didn’t run off and try to find cover before my vest reactivated. I could see on her face the moment she realized that, instead of my normal toying cat persona, I was simply a useless lesbian being awkward in front of a pretty girl. I scowled, which only confirmed it for her. I suddenly felt even more awkward.

Until my vest went off again.

I ground my jaw. 

“Really, Frosta? Couldn’t you have not?”  
  
“Would you have missed an easy point?”

(Fair.)

To add to my humiliation, wearing a smug grin, she held her hand out to Adora, “The Froster.”

Adora’s face lit up, “No way! I can’t believe you’re on my team!”

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Frosta laughed, “you two looked cozy. Newbie, you keep making heart eyes with Catra and I’ll keep shooting her.”

I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but there. I was really digging the reconnecting with Adora, but also, I hated losing more than anything. It made me itch. Burn. It was like the plague or bad 90s music or mange. It made it hard not to say something mean, and I didn’t want to lose my temper in front of Adora and say something dumb again.

“What’s the matter,” Frosta laughed at me when I didn’t say anything, taking my silence, I guess, as just simple gay embarrassment, “cat got your tongue?”

On cue, boom, my vest went off again.

“VIBE CHECK!”

“I’m going,” I grumbled, uncaring whether I’d spoken loud enough for either of them to actually hear. I just needed to extract myself so I could cool down. I unsnapped my vest and shoved it and my rifle into to Frosta’s chest before walking out, “She can take over for Team Red.”

I flipped her off (because one bird couldn’t be _that_ bad) and disappeared into the maze, navigating myself out to the prep room and then slipping past the black curtain and into the main area.

I leaned against the wall, heart thudding and cheeks burning.

“Not supposed to swap vests, kiddo,” said Seahawk from behind the counter.

“Bite me,” I growled. “And how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me kiddo? You call me that one more time and I swear I’m letting it rip to your manager that you’re the one who keeps setting fire to the crane game.”

He only laughed (but nervously, heh heh) from behind the counter and turned to reprogram the name on my vest over to Frosta’s for the purposes of our leader board scores.

I contented myself to stand by and watch the monitors for how Adora was faring.

Not well.

She’d already been killed once, and it had only been sixty seconds.

I was tempted to go back in on Adora’s team just to pick off Frosta, but before I could, I realized Glimmer was standing off to the side and glaring at me. For all I knew, she’d been there the whole match watching Adora and I on the monitors.

“Get your own girlfriend, Catra.”

My hands clenched involuntarily, claws coming out just enough to dig into my palms.

I told myself to stay calm. I retracted them. Don’t take the bait. I knew what she wanted to do: Taunt me into attacking her and give Principal Weaver the excuse she needed to expel me. In this skank rich town, I was afraid that it wouldn’t matter if the fight wasn’t on school property so long as it was a poor-kid-on-rich-kid.

Her eyes went down to my knuckles, and then she grinned like she knew she had me. Glimmer wasn’t afraid of a fight. She’d had a handful herself in middle school. By high school, her reputation had preceded her and most girls backed off when she bullied.

My ears were twitching. I heard my heartbeat in my ears, pounding with fear. Not of her, but of being kicked out of school. I couldn’t afford it. My aunt would kick me out, for sure.

I started to walk away, but she stepped in front and blocked me.

“Where you going, Catpiss,” she cooed, taunting me. “Don’t you want to talk about how much you’re in _love_ with Adora?” She stepped right up into my face, “About how you’ve been _pining away_ for her since she transferred here?” Her fake smile turned acid, as did her voice, “About how you’re not good enough for her and never will be?”

“Stop it,” I said.

I had to get out of there.

I tried stepping around her again.

Again, she stepped in my way, arms crossed, this time kind of bouncing herself into me a little as she blocked.

I needed a witness. I looked over to the counter, but Seahwk was missing.

I also _really_ wanted to break Sparkle’s nose.

But I held on. I didn’t move. Released the tension that had built in my tail. I stood frozen, still, controlling my rage and humiliation and pride.

It disappointed her when I didn’t swing. I saw the recalculation in her eyes.

“Why would you like someone like her, anyway? She’s nice, but also,” She gave me a smirk that said she knew she had me with what was coming, “kind of a ditzy idiot.”

“Suck. Hind. Tit.”

And suddenly, we were on the floor, rolling around and fighting in a tangle of limbs.

In the heat of battle, I legit had no idea which of us sprung first.

(Listen, cats are hot blooded, pissy little crechers okay?)

She was yanking at my fur, ripping some of it out, and swiping at my face with her nails as if they weren’t only humanly pathetic examples of keratin. She did get a good knuckle-hit in, but then I threw my forearms up to cover my eyes and accidentally caught her in the jaw with my fist. She screamed wildly, and after that we were just rolling around, wrestling for position.

The fight (call it what it was, a catfight) seemed to go on forever, but then suddenly I was being yanked from behind, drug backwards on the carpet. Someone was yelling at me, and had me gripped in a tight bear hug. Instinctively, I kicked back and struggled, but whoever my opponent was, they were too strong and too quick. We rolled faster than I could process, their knees going around my hips and pinning me flat-backed onto the floor as they held my wrists stretched above my head.

“Catra, stop!”

My eyes started to focus again.

It was Adora above me, eyes wide and dark and chest heaving.

The strange combination of fear-adrenaline and instant excitement made me squirm once more. She grunted, and her hands squeezed as a sign to stop.

Glimmer was still screaming, and movement made me turn my head. Both Frosta and Seahawk were restraining her, each holding one of her arms. She calmed down fairly quickly, but looked honestly pissed that the fight had been stopped.

“Catra.”

I looked back up at Adora.

Every muscle in my body wanted to wiggle against her weight. Memories of those one-on-one wrestling faux-practices, memories of where I’d wanted them to _go_ , sent little bolts of electricity around inside me.

But whatever my body thought of the unexpected position, Adora seemed unaffected. She shook her head at me sadly.

"Catra, not another fight. You’re going to get yourself _expelled_.”

I didn’t know which was worse, that she was concerned for me, or that she was clearly also disappointed.

I was a terrible person. A horrible cat.

I felt tears threatening, which was weakness, which only made me angry. I jerked my head to the side so I wouldn’t have to look at her, wouldn’t have to look at her looking at me and not liking what he saw.

“Catra, please,” she whispered, though I wasn’t sure what she was pleading for.

  
“I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I’m sorry for everything.” I drew in a steadying breath and met her eyes straight on, “I’m sorry for the catnip, Adora.”

The tension instantly drained from Adora’s body. Her thighs relaxed their grip, as did her hands on my wrists. She even lifted a hand to push a stray bit of tuft back behind my ear.

"You’re hurt,” she winced on my behalf, ran her fingertips gently along the line of pain I knew must be scratches on my cheek. The touch made the short furs on my arms stand up on end, and she tilted my chin up so she could see how far the scratching trailed down my throat.

She winced again.

But also, I think maybe we were totally starting have a moment.

Because suddenly she was smiling at me. And I was smiling at her. We were doing the smiley thing at each other.

As dumb teenagers do.

“You’re such an idiot,” she, and her laughter sounded a little wet, just like her eyes.

“She attacked me,” Glimmer suddenly barked, because of course she couldn’t let us have a moment, duh. She grabbed onto Seahawk as though she needed protection and hadn’t just been needing to be restrained. “She attacked me! Look at the scratches on my arms! I demand you call the police!”

"Let’s do that, kiddo,” Seahawk said. He pointed out to a video camera on the wall, “I think they might very much like to see what’s on the video and who _really_ started that fight.”

That shut Glitter-face right up. Her mouth made a big “O” and she shuffled back a few steps. “You know what? It’s fine. I’m fine. It was probably just a misunderstanding.” Frosta was smirking trying not to laugh at Glimmer’s antics in trying to edge her into leaving. “I’m just, gonna go. We’re good, right Catra?”

“Uh,” Wow, to see Glimmer on the defensive. But also, Adora was still pinning me and frankly I couldn’t care less about Sparkles in that moment. “Whatever. Go away. I’m busy.”

She left. (yay! run away princess.)

”I was bluffing, by the way. You totally launched first, though what she said to you was really quite uncalled for,” Seahawk merrily whispered to us behind his hand, before walking off back to the arcade side (probably to eye the newest crane machine, the freak), singing a shanty to himself.

Adora gave me a reproving look, but I just winked at her. “You gonna stay on top of me all day, She Ha? Or you gonna let me up? Not that I mind it here.”

Frosta cleared her throat. “Heart eyes, again. Sickening.” She muttered under her breath as she walked off for the prep room, since she was still in her vest and needed to return the rifle, “Seriously. This is a place of war, honor it.”

It took Adora a few seconds to finally stop glitching, then she seemed to come wide awake and realize _exactly_ our _in situ_. She scrambled off me like I was contagious so fast, I actually giggled at her embarrassment. She held a hand out and helped me up and by the time I was on my feet, her cheeks were blazing red.

“So, uh,” she gave me a pained smile, “sorry about that. It was my fault, probably. I think I got her mad because within about point-five-seconds of being forced into Hot Topic, I told her I’d decided I was going to come back to ask you to play.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t gonna complain if Sparkle’s jealousy had just won me points with Adora. 

“You, uh, you’re pretty good. At laser tag I mean.” Adora’s cheeks were red-hot by now, and she was acting… shy?... but she still followed the statement up by touching me on the elbow. Wow. One of my nine lives just popped out of existence right there, from gay overload. “You sure were kicking my butt in there.”

My ego wanted to boast, but also, **I WAS GOING TO HAVE MY** Momenttm **DAMMIT** and I wasn’t about to ruin it with bragging. (Besides, I could always brag later. Like the next time I smashed her psyche to pieces playing Mario Kart.)

“Thanks.” (This is me, being humble. Take notes.)

Adora looked away, then back again, worrying her bottom lip, but also smiling. That chick was really into the eye contact all of the sudden. She looked nervous. It granted the butterflies the power of resurrection.

“And uh, maybe… Maybe we could do the laser tag thing again? Sometime? I’d love a rematch. My treat.”

Before I could reply, Frosta interjected bitterly, apparently back from the prep room.

“Save your money, Blondie. The cat plays for free.”

“What? Why?” Adora looked from Frosta to me, brows adorably knit together in confusion.

“The only reason _I_ don’t get to play free, or get first dibs on the good rifle, is because the only name above my name on the leader board is hers. That perk only goes to first place.”

“ _You’re Lord Prime_!” Adora exclaimed it, squealed, like I was some sort of freaking legendary hero. She pointed up at the leader board as though she was stating something I wouldn’t obviously already know myself. (Hello, duh. But also, yeeeeeeah, right to my ego please.) Before I actually got to gloat, though, or use it as a springboard to flirt, she grabbed my arms in a death grip and was shaking me like a maraca. “Catra! I’ve been keeping track of Lord Prime’s score for MONTHS! I’m so excited! Okay, I _have_ to beat you now!”

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, don't hate me. Someone randomly commented on an old Everlark fic of mine called "Katfight: Lasertag Arena" and my wheels went into action because if there was ever an AU of mine that could easily be Catradora, it's this. And honestly, I like it *better* as Catradora. I realize this is recycling a bit, but I did hours of retooling and it's definitely not the same.
> 
> Thank you johannas_motivational_insults for the vine idea on the 50 Shades of Scorfuma.


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